Heart Ache
by Argella
Summary: Mello knew all along that Kira was going to kill him. Ties into "Angel of Death" but is a standalone. Rated for language.


_'Cause if you're not really here  
>Then the stars don't even matter<br>Now I'm filled to the top with fear  
>That it's all just a bunch of matter<br>'Cause if you're not really here  
>I don't want to be, either<br>I want to be next to you_

Sam Sparro — "Black and Gold"

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><p><strong>Heart Ache<br>**

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><p>I knew all along that Kira was going to kill me.<p>

Well, when I say that, I'm lumping Kira's henchmen—and henchwomen—together with the bastard himself. The point is I know that any minute now, the bitch in the back of this truck is going to write my name down on the notebook scrap she has with her and kill me, and I'm not going to do a fucking thing about it when it happens.

Why not? Why don't I try to stop her? Why didn't I blow her brains out when I saw that she had something in her hand as she took off her underwear? Why am I, as Matt so eloquently put it, acting like I'm some goddamn martyr?

I don't want to die. But I don't really want to live, either. My work here, so to speak, is done. What'll be left for me if I get out of this alive? The hatred of everyone I've exploited to get where I am. A conviction for almost every felony under the sun. A jail cell, a gallows. Maybe I deserve all that; maybe I don't.

Matt won't be there to pity me or reprimand me. He wasn't supposed to be, anyway—he was supposed to get out, he was supposed to be safe, he was supposed to never have gotten involved in all this shit in the first place. But now he's dead. He's riddled with bullets, bleeding out all over the pavement while the self-satisfied bastards who shot him down all congratulate themselves for eliminating another infidel from their fucking perfect world.

How could Matt be dead? He was so full of life just a few hours ago, warm in my arms when he whispered his name to me. He was just a goddamn kid—his twentieth birthday would have been only a week from today. He was a fucking genius; he should have lived long enough to start his own software company or design a blockbuster video game. He was supposed to make a shitload of money and die peacefully at a ripe old age.

I was supposed to get the notebook and keep my pretty face. L was supposed to defeat Kira and choose me as his successor. My parents were supposed to raise me to adulthood and keep me out of trouble... If I learned one thing in the mob, it's that nothing ever goes how it's supposed to. That's why, in a way, I understand Kira. He's crafting the world into his own vision of how things should be. I've tried to do the same; I just wasn't as successful.

_Matt... I didn't mean for you to die..._

The tears start to burn at the edges of my eyes, hotter than fire.

_I'm sorry._

Can a heart break? I think that's all just sentimental bullshit. If emotions could actually cause physical pain, why would they affect the heart, of all the organs in the human body? It's just a pump for blood. Four chambers, some tubes and fatty tissue. A heart is too soft to break. It can clog, it can stutter, it can be ripped out of the body. It can be slashed in half or shot full of lead. But it can't break.

My heart is still beating, like it's done 35 million times a year for the last two decades. I know it hasn't broken because I can feel my pulse twitch in my calf as I push my foot down on the accelerator. But there is an emptiness in my chest, a vacuum. It aches.

I know it's something else when the ache is drowned out by a long stab of pain like a twisting knife. I know what's happening, for a split second, as my lungs strain for air.

I know what's happening, and I realize that I am afraid.

Of what? God's wrath when he sees how far I've strayed from Him? Going to hell for my countless sins? I don't believe in a hell or a God, not any more. Not since Kira made himself into a god and created his hell on earth. That's why I wasn't really surprised at the secret Sidoh told me. There is no heaven or hell. Just... nothing. Not peace, not bliss, not torment, not everlasting life. Not even space or time or light or darkness.

Why would I be afraid of _nothingness?_ It should be a relief. Just a few more seconds of agony as every cell in my body expires for want of oxygen, and then it will all stop...

But that's why I'm afraid—it won't all stop. The world will continue. Without me, without Matt, without Kira, without humans, without life. Someday everything will die, the sun will engulf the earth and burn out, and the universe will keep on expanding as if nothing had happened at all.

The most terrifying thing is just that: nothing _has_ ever happened, not really. If a world dies in the universe and no one is around to hear it, it makes no sound.

If I weren't such a total dick, I'd be thinking of Matt in my final moments instead of philosophizing about the meaninglessness of life. It just goes to show that death is probably too good for someone like me.


End file.
